The Pact (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 17) (30 page)

 

“She’s taken over your body before, hasn’t she?”

 

“Yes, but for small intervals. It’s very exhausting for her. Once I was dead though, that was easier for her. She could do it while talking to me.”

 

“So you were dead, then? Floating around?” He used his hands to flutter in the air. “You left your body?”

 

“Yes. Even went through a life review. Like when people say their life flashed before their eyes. Did the whole thing. Chatted with my sister—it was so good to see her—made a pact, and here I am. Now, let’s go.”

 

“Wait. One more thing.”

 

Sarah leaned against the wall, touching her chest gingerly. “Damn this hurts. You pumped my chest too hard.”

 

“So sue me. I wanted you alive. And why are you so lethargic if you were breathing the whole time?”

 

“Officially, my body was dead for an hour. That’s why it’s not acting normal yet. Every limb has pins and needles right now. Internal organs, too. My heart is racing, forcing blood to move where ten minutes ago it was settling. I feel pretty fucked up right now and it’s pissing me off. Makes me irritable. Can we just go?”

 

Parkman pulled her off the wall and wrapped his arms around her.

 

“I’m so glad you’re back.” His voice cracked.

 

“Don’t get too sappy on me,” she said, her words muffled by the fabric on his shoulder as he clung to her tight. “We still have lots to do if we’re going to save Aaron. And Alex is out there all alone with an assassin. I saw him asking the guy a bunch of questions. Violent stuff. They need us.”

 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said. “I thought it was my fault.”

 

“Parkman?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Let me go.”

 

He opened his arms. She settled back against the wall.

 

“It wasn’t your fault. This was all Vivian’s doing. A higher purpose. I’ll tell you more on the plane. You’ll understand everything. I even saw the letter she wrote you. You’re supposed to be here, now. Not before I met Anton and entered his house, but after. That was supposed to happen. So let the rest go.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Now, let’s do this and get out of here.”

 

The door opened in front of them. Two Danish cops blocked their way.

 

“What do we have here?” the older one asked. “The dead girl rises.”

 

“Parkman,” Sarah whispered. “Get me out of here.”

 

“You’re not going anywhere, Sarah Roberts.” The cop stepped forward and clamped a hand on her arm. “You’re supposed to be dead. We’re about to charge someone with murder and you’re walking around the hospital morgue.” He glanced at his partner and shook his head. “Someone has a lot of explaining to do.”

 

Chapter 43

Aaron led the police officers outside the hospital and across the parking lot to the retail store where they had parked the stolen cop car. Halfway there, he wondered what they would say when they saw Alex dressed as a cop, standing by a stolen police car, wearing the uniform of an officer they had knocked out back at the hotel.

 

Was Ansgar enough of a catch to expose themselves to that much heat? How stupid of a move was this?

 

He almost turned around and headed in another direction. But when would this end? How would it end? Would one of them be charged with the murder of the airport van driver? Once they launched a full investigation, they would have the bullet casings, the trajectory the bullets entered the vehicle. And why shoot Benjamin? Why drive him to the hospital if they were guilty of murder? Wouldn’t Clara’s word absolve them of charges? What would the hotel clerk’s story be? And what about the cop Alex coaxed into coming to the hotel room where he got knocked out and stripped.

 

The waters were definitely muddy and it would take considerable time to un-muddy them.

 

He looked down at the ground while he walked, wondering if he’d been hanging around Sarah too long. They couldn’t go around knocking out cops and stealing police cars. This had gone too far. It was time for Clara to stay in police custody until this was over and for them to answer for their actions. He would explain that he felt what they did at the time was the right thing to do. They were running from a hitman. How could they know if more were coming or not? Extreme measures were taken.

 

“How much farther, Aaron?” the mouthpiece cop asked.

 

“Right behind this retail store.” Aaron pointed.

 

“What are we going to find there?”

 

“Ansgar Holm, the man who murdered the airport van driver. The man who kidnapped Clara Olafson. Ansgar Holm goes by the nickname, The Clock. He’s an ex-Navy Seal sniper.”

 

“The Clock?” the cop sounded surprised. “You’re saying The Clock’s real name is Ansgar Holm?”

 

Aaron chanced a look at the men walking with him. “You know The Clock?”

 

“Who doesn’t? Some say he’s trying to duplicate what the Jackal did in the eighties.”

 

Aaron had never heard of The Clock. Of course he didn’t run in circles where the names of assassins were routinely discussed, but he found it odd that random police officers would know that name.

 

The hospital didn’t have metal detectors. Aaron had been able to enter the hospital, meet Dr. Shelp, and find Daniel and Benjamin without having to ditch Ansgar’s Glock in his waistband. So far, the cops hadn’t asked him if he was armed and hadn’t search him.

 

If they thought for a moment that Aaron was a suspect, then it wouldn’t be a stretch for them to think that they were walking into a trap after traversing the hospital parking lot in the dark and effectively leaving the premises. He also had to consider it was the Glock in his waistband that shot the airport van driver.

 

That left Aaron with two choices.

 

Either he wasn’t a suspect or these officers—who hadn’t identified themselves by name yet—were genuinely curious who Aaron had captive behind the retail store.

 

Or the cop was with Ansgar and it was Aaron who was walking into a trap. Could all the officers back in the hospital be in on some kind of conspiracy or had he been hanging around Sarah too long?

 

Aaron stepped around the corner of the retail store building and pointed.

 

“There’s the police car—”

 

The cruiser was gone. Alex was gone. Ansgar Holm was gone.

 

Broken glass was scattered on the cement where the car had been parked.

 

What the fuck happened?

 

“Where, Aaron?” Mouthpiece asked. “Where’s the cop car?”

 

“It was right there. I left Alex with the cruiser.” He jerked his head back to look at the officers. Then spun in a circle in search of the car. Worry for Alex rose in his throat. What could’ve happened to him? “Ansgar was in the backseat. He couldn’t have gotten out.”

 

“Police car?” Mouthpiece asked. “Like an actual police cruiser?”

 

His partner had stepped back into the shadows. Aaron was sure the man had his weapon out.

 

“Hey, take it easy.” Aaron raised his hands chest high. “We have The Clock. We have the guy behind all this.”

 

“Where, Aaron?” The cop moved closer. “I don’t see him. And maybe you could tell us. How did you happen to come across a police car?”

 

“Look,” Aaron said. “Listen to me.” He turned left, then right. The parking lot was empty. No police car within an entire city block. “They were here.”

 

“Aaron, turn around.”

 

He faced the cop. “Don’t do this.”

 

“Turn around.” This time the cop’s words were strained. His patience had snapped.

 

Something clicked off the cop’s belt line. Handcuffs dangled from his fingers.

 

“Put these on.” The cop tossed them to Aaron. He caught them with ease. “Don’t resist arrest,” he added. “I don’t want to have to use deadly force. I know how fast you are. I’m not coming close to you. So put those on yourself.”

 

“Don’t do this. I’ll come peacefully.”

 

“Aaron, we know you. We were willing to trust you. Until now.”

 

The partner had his back to the building, covering them.

 

Aaron was out of options. After one cuff was on, he reached around behind his back and locked the other wrist in. Then he spun around and lifted his hands in the air to show the cop that they were locked in place.

 

He turned back around to face the cop.

 

“What now?” Aaron asked.

 

Mouthpiece’s cell phone dinged. He unclipped it and read the message. When he met Aaron’s eyes, a renewed fire brewed in them.

 

“What?” Aaron asked.

 

The cop stepped back and lifted the phone for his partner to read. Then the partner glared at Aaron.

 

Mouthpiece deposited his phone in his pocket and started for Aaron.

 

“You guys gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?” Aaron asked, a sudden urge to turn and run and take his chances flared in him.

 

Mouthpiece grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward the hospital.

 

“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to retain legal counsel. Anything you say—”

 

“What are you arresting me for?” he asked. Did the cop at the hotel text him? Did the clerk mistakenly issue a statement that it was Aaron who shot the airport van driver?

 

“Aaron Stevens, you are being arrested for the murder of Len Wallace, the driver of the Park ’N Fly van. We have a witness.”

 

The other cop clamped onto Aaron’s other arm and together they half dragged, half forced him across the dark parking lot of the hospital.

 

At their cruiser, Mouthpiece pushed him up against the car and patted him down.

 

At the small of Aaron’s back, the cop’s hand stopped on Ansgar’s Glock.

 

“What’s this?” He yanked it out and held it up for his partner to see. “Odds are, this was the weapon that killed the driver. What do you say, Aaron? This the weapon?”

 

There was no point in debating with these men. There was nothing he could say that would convince them to take their cuffs off him and let him walk away. He also didn’t want to lie which would be found out later.

 

“Good investigating there, dickweed. That’s the gun that shot the driver. I’ll put that in my statement. That gun is the murder weapon. But I didn’t do it.”

 

“Of course you didn’t. You just happen to carry murder weapons around with you like the rest of us normal folk carry house keys.”

 

They shoved Aaron in the backseat of the cruiser and slammed the door.

 

“Fuck you, Aaron Stevens. Fuck you.”

 

The cops disappeared inside the hospital.

 

Chapter 44

Aaron was driven to the police station, processed and placed in a holding cell until someone was supposed to come and take his statement.

 

Mistakes had been made. Bad decisions fell through. He was supposed to take care of Clara and he screwed that up. At one point they were safe in a hotel room and now he had no idea where everyone was.

 

The mouthpiece cop, Detective Shawn Bryant, read Aaron his rights. Once that was done and he was processed, Aaron understood the cops were bringing Daniel and Clara in. Benjamin would remain at the hospital under police guard until he could be moved to the police station.

 

He leaned against the door and stared out into the corridor through a small square window.

 

What had happened to Alex? Had Ansgar gotten the better of him? Maybe Ansgar had a hidden weapon of some kind. Could Alex be dead and they’d find his body in the coming days? If so, that was on Aaron. It was stupid to knock that cop out at the hotel, steal his uniform and his cruiser. The cop knew what Alex looked like. It would only be a matter of time before Alex would be up on charges as well.

 

But they’d done it and at the time, it made sense because of how dangerous Ansgar was.

 

So where was Ansgar? Was it all worth it?

 

Aaron pushed off the door and sat on the wooden bench that ran the length of the back wall in the small holding cell.

 

He wasn’t worried about the murder charge. It was a waste of time and the charges would be dropped within days as soon as they took Clara’s statement. It would all work out. But until then, Alex was on his own. Of all the people he knew outside Sarah, if someone was on their own and had to survive without support for a few days, it would be Alex. He’d make it.

 

Three hours later, the sun rising and filling the left side of the corridor with morning light, an officer knocked once, then opened the holding cell door. Despite the early hour and the fatigue that came along with it, Aaron shot up from the wooden bench and followed the officer without any drowsiness. He was eager to give his statement and get this over with.

 

An hour later, after his statement was taken by a female officer named Liane Carmen, he was led to an interview room.

 

“Would you like a coffee or water?” Carmen asked.

 

“Coffee. Black.”

 

Carmen nodded and eased the door shut.

 

Ten minutes later, Officer Carmen returned with a cup of black coffee, then slipped out the door.

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